Han Christian Who?
by Nora Winters
Summary: Snow would have made it easy for a posse to track the gang; so how did Heyes manage to pull off a daring robbery? Just a short story from a challenge.


**Han Christian Who?**

Curry rode into the empty compound, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. He turned his head as raucous laughter came from the distant pond. A puzzled frown on his face, he led his horse and the pack mules into the barn, stopping to drop the elk carcasses by the storage hut. With the animals tended, he strode towards the sounds.

At the pond, he found Heyes supervising total chaos. Shouts, curses, and laughter greeted him. Lobo and Hognose Swinburne were hanging on to each other looking petrified as Hognose wobbled and slid backwards on the slick ice. The Kid watched bemused as the pair slid into Dutchy, who flailed his arms in a vain attempt to stay upright. Dutchy crashed to the surface pulling the other two on top of him.

"Heyes, this has to be the most dang fool, dumbest idea you've ever had," Wheat grumped as he struggled upright.

"Nonsense," Heyes called. "You can do this, men; it's easy."

The Kid, a reluctant grin on his face, viewed the spectacle before him. "Heyes, what on earth? You all been dippin' into some 'shine or someone slip jimson weed in the coffee or somethin'?"

Heyes wheeled around, flinging out his arms and grinning broadly. "Isn't this amazing? My best plan ever, and that's saying something."

As he spoke, Lobo stumbled again and grabbed Hank for support who, in turn, slid into Wheat, knocking him off his feet. The cursing grew louder. "Amazin's one word for it." Curry shook his head. "At least you had sense enough to disarm 'em first. Otherwise they'd probably shoot themselves in the foot," he paused, "or maybe just settle for shootin' you."

Heyes laughed out loud.

Kyle swooshed to a stop before the pair spraying them with icy shards. "Heyes, this is the most fun we've had in years!" He looked at the partners. "Ain't you gonna have fun, too?" He sped off, looking more graceful than he ever had on land.

Heyes and Curry looked at each other, Heyes's dimples deepening, Curry's mouth set in a firm line and his head slowly shaking from side to side.

Heyes reached over and pulled two pairs of skates from behind a tree. "Come on, Kid." He held them up.

"Nope."

"What? Kid Curry scared of a little ice?"

Curry's eyes narrowed. "I don't see you out there." He winced as several of the men crashed again to the hard surface and lay there cursing.

"I'm just waiting for you. Come on it'll be like when we were kids – remember? I'll race you. I beat you then, and I'll beat you now." Heyes sat and began pulling on skates.

Curry snorted, "You were bigger'n me then. You won't win now." He untied his gun, hanging the belt on a tree branch before slowly sitting and strapping on the skates. Heyes stepped onto the ice, waiting impatiently. The two started slowly but soon were gliding smoothly around and among the struggling outlaws, laughing and placing bets on who would win a race.

~~~oOo~~~

Heyes poured a splash of coffee into two mugs before filling them with whiskey. "Here, this'll warm us up some."

Curry stopped holding his hands before the fire and reached for a mug. As he took a gulp of the beverage his eyes shot up. "That'd warm a polar bear."

Chuckling, Heyes settled in a chair. "So no problem getting supplies?"

"No, even shot us a couple of elk. We can last the winter now." He took another gulp of his coffee. "Not that I want to be set here for the winter," he muttered.

"Did you …"

"Yeah, I got you a flyer. It's exactly what you thought it'd be." He walked over to his saddlebags, extracting a folded sheet and holding it out.

Heyes grabbed the paper eagerly. He unfolded it and read aloud:

"Odense, Wyoming

5th Annual Hans Christian Andersen Festival

Readings of his beloved tales

Puppet Shows

Ice Skating

Prizes and Fun for all ages

To be followed by

FIREWORKS at midnight

St Olaf's will be holding a dawn service to conclude the event."

Smiling, he looked at his partner. "And it's the day I said it was. You know, I really do think this will work. One of my best plans ever."

Curry did not return the smile. "It won't work if the boys have to skate. They can't do it, Heyes. Well, except for Kyle." He chuckled. "Figures Kyle's the only one of the bunch that can skate. He can barely stay up on his feet when he's standin' still, and as for how many times he's fallen off his horse … but skates, no problem." He shook his head in wonder and drank more of the doctored coffee.

"I'll figure something out. I want that bank."

"Sure you will, Heyes, sure you will."

~~~oOo~~~

One week later a sledge drawn by six large draft horses rolled into Odense and found a place among the riverside vendors. There it blended with sellers of soup, stew, and lutefisk. Other vendors offered hats, scarves, and skate sharpening. Laughter and chatter rose from the throngs milling about, starting fires, setting up tents. Wheat and the Kid stepped down from the driver's bench. Wheat gestured for the men pouring out of the back to unload the barrels. No one noticed Heyes and Hank riding in. Heyes joined Curry and watched as the men built a fire and hung a cauldron over it, pouring the contents of one of the barrels into the cauldron. Soon steam carrying the scent of warm, mulled cider wafted from their midst.

Heyes nodded and set up a sign – "Hot cider, 2¢" Lobo, casting a quick look as Heyes walked away, added a brief attachment. "Home brew cider, 5¢." He helped himself to a mug, pulling out a bottle and adding some whiskey to its steaming contents.

By 11 p.m. the town had emptied and stragglers were hastening to the river for the final events and the fireworks. With a quiet word from the Kid, Wheat joined the partners and the three melted away from the crowds heading towards the river. Unnoticed, they entered the town. Wheat nudged Heyes sharply with his elbow and jerked his head towards where Hank waited in the shadows.

"Horses ready?"

"Yeah, in the barn."

"Good."

"Now what?"

"Now, we take our places and wait."

"Ya know, Heyes, no reason for us to hang around here freezing," Wheat sputtered. "We could be down there, getting ourselves some of that soup I saw and staying warm by the fire. Why if I planned this…"

"Wheat, if you planned this you would have ridden in and gotten everyone shot right off, or at best set a trail out of town in the snow that a blind posse could follow." Heyes dismissed him.

Wheat opened his mouth to reply but, after one glance at the Kid, closed it and subsided, muttering to himself.

Wheat and the Kid took turns with the bar spreader while Heyes and Hank kept watch. Once the window was open, Heyes then the Kid climbed in.

Hank handed them his bundle before taking one end of the alley as Wheat watched from the other end.

Curry checked that all the shades in the bank were drawn tight before lighting a candle. "Now what, Heyes?"

"Now, I see if I can open the safe. Doubt it. But if I can't then we set the dynamite."

The two went about their business. Sighing, Heyes admitted defeat and reached for the bundle. He set the dynamite and pulled out his watch. "Now we wait."

Curry nodded and settled himself, his hat over his eyes and his hand resting on the grip of his pistol.

Down at the lake, the excitement was building. Children ran through the crowds, screaming in delight. Men competed in a series of skating races. Other children sat entranced by the puppet shows repeating some of their favorite tales by the master Danish storyteller. The vendors selling stew, soup, and hot cider did a brisk business. Lobo was kept busy enhancing the brew for thirsty men.

Finally, the puppet theater closed, the races ended, and the crowd waited in anticipation. At the stroke of midnight a grand fireworks display roared out. In the shouts of appreciation from the crowd and the fury of the explosions, a muffled blast went unnoticed.

All too soon the display ended. Parents gathered protesting children, sparking couples parted, and the crowd began to melt away. Wheat and Hank rode out of town.

Lobo and the others quickly packed the remaining supplies. As he loaded the barrels back into the sledge, Curry sank an oilskin wrapped parcel into a half-full barrel. Heyes walked over to Curry and handed him a pair of skates in exchange for a package of bills that he tucked inside his coat. Curry tucked a similar packet inside his own coat.

The partners spotted Kyle who was standing, laughing on the frozen river surrounded by town's men. The two hurriedly donned their skates and glided to the edge of the crowd signaling to him.

"Yup, well I bin skating since I was a little nipper. Ain't done it for a while though. Come back to me, real natural like." Kyle broke off as he saw Heyes glaring at him.

"Guess I gotta go. Been real nice meeting you all." He said good-bye to his admirers and slid smoothly towards the pair.

"Been having fun?" Heyes asked acidly.

"Sure have. Why look!" Kyle opened his jacket to display a medal proclaiming him to be a champion skater. "I won me five dollars in them races. We should do this again."

Curry rolled his eyes. "That's nice, Kyle, but we need to get out of here before that church service starts."

"Oh yeah. Sorry. I forgot."

"Just remember the way home. Let's go." As the sledge driven by Lobo headed back whence it came, the three headed down the river skating around a bend and disappearing into waning the night.

~~~oOo~~~

Two weeks later Hognose and Lobo rode into the Hole bringing with them a newspaper reporting on the mysterious events in Odense.

" _Odense in the Wyoming Territory is well known for its annual Hans Cristian Andersen festival – celebrating the famed Danish storyteller born in Odense, Denmark. This year's festival was marred, however, when ruthless outlaws used the festival as a cover for their nefarious activities. The safe at the Odense bank was blown over the weekend. Sheriff Petersen speculates that it happened during the fireworks display, which may have hidden the sound. The theft was not discovered until the bank was opened Monday morning. While inquiries were pursued there had been too many strangers in town to identify any suspects. Petersen explained that with all the horse and wagon tracks from the event, there was no trail to follow. He said, 'They were real clever those thieves, but we may never know who they were.'_ "

Heyes put down the paper, having read the story aloud to the Kid. He smiled, "I didn't think we'd have the funds and would have to winter here, but now we could leave as soon as the next thaw. So what do you think, San Francisco or somewhere south?"

"Somewhere south, Heyes, I've seen enough ice for the year."

 **Author's note:** Hans Christian Andersen was born in Odense, Denmark in April 1805 and died in August 1875. Apparently, his first collection of stories published originally in English, "A Christmas Greeting to My English Friends," was published in December 1847.


End file.
